


Bright

by Anonymous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blow Jobs, Ignoct Spice, M/M, PWP, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Prompt: "100 words of virgins giving amazing blowjobs". Noct is the virgin in question.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79
Collections: The Ignoct Spice-a-thon, Unofficial FFA Anon Collection





	Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Dusting this off and posting it for Ignoct Spice Round 7

"Are you sure you want to do this, Noct?"

Ignis shifts in his seat, retreating back into the sofa as Noct rolls his eyes, positioned between his knees. A messy strand of hair drifts into his face, and he puffs it away.

"I'm sure I want to. And it's not like I can just go out and meet people."

His hand creeps further up Ignis's thigh, thumb rubbing circles on his inseam.

"Right now, you're acting like you're the one who's never done this before."

"Yes, well..." Ignis clicks his tongue. The act itself might not be new to him, but the present situation— the familiar plush sofa in the apartment under him, the afternoon sun streaming through watching windows, casting sharp shadows in Noct's hair and gleaming in his eyes— is uncharted territory, one he has no strategy for approaching. Every detail is laid bare and vivid, from the dewiness of his skin to the curl of the lashes under his eyes. It would be different if he could evade them.

Noct continues to look up at him, as if studying his reactions, perhaps expecting to be pushed away. Ignis lets out a breath and settles, almost grimly, into the cushions. It’s enough assent for Noct to move forward and start prying at his zipper. He moves to assist.

A hand wraps around him and starts toying, and he’s still mostly soft but not going to be for long. It’s odd to have a good view of himself like this, trimmed hair almost blond in the light, getting harder and thicker in someone else’s hands, reddening from bloodflow. His shirt pulls across his chest as it expands, breathing going slow and deep. Noct switches hands for a moment, slipping fingers and thumb in his mouth and withdrawing them wet. The pad of his thumb makes slippery circles on the underside of the head, and there’s amused triumph in his eyes when Ignis visibly shivers. He leans in.

The flash of his tongue is candy-pink and the touch of it far sweeter. The way he licks is experimental, inquisitive, spreading the wet gleam of spit over the cockhead, flowing down over his bottom lip and gathering at the corner of his mouth. When he’s done with that, he takes just the head into his mouth, tongue pressing up as he figures out how to suck. Ignis realizes his chest is tight, caught by his own hesitance to make sounds. But there’s no one to hear, and he supposes, it’s better to let Noct know what feels good. He lets himself sigh at the wet velvet sweep of Noct’s tongue, lets the sucking motions draw noises of pleasure from him, grunts and cants his hips when taken deeper, moans openly when Noct gags around him, throat constricting, and then does it again on purpose. Every now and then, Noct looks up and holds his gaze, with determination, and Ignis wants nothing more than to come down his throat. Drool trails from the corner of his mouth, so white in the sunlight I can pretend it’s his own come leaking out, and he clenches a fist in Noct’s hair to keep him close, to watch it roll down his chin.

Pure, messy enthusiasm, and not a small amount of talent at this. Ignis keeps his hand there as a guide, steadying the pace when necessary, a correction Noct accepts. Even the odd brush of teeth is on just the right side of the boundary between pain and pleasure— or perhaps that’s just his own tastes. When Noct starts to tire, he brings his hands up, the shaft wet enough that his grip slides easily, even when he adds a twist to his strokes.

“Oh,  _ fuck me, _ ” Ignis gasps, and feels the vibration of a laugh rattle through him, all so good he can’t bring himself to care that he’s being laughed at, or anything at all beside his desperate need for more of it. He’s on the edge and burning up, and then  _ coming, _ in pulses that wring everything out of him down to his core. The room recedes into blinding white.

It returns slowly, dimming in steps with the rapid thud of his heartbeat, still fuzzy at the edges. His glasses have slid down his nose, along with a bead of sweat he finds when he adjusts them. Between his knees, Noct is a mess, skin sheened with sweat and blotched red around the mouth, wet on his cheeks when his eyes have been watering. Somehow, he manages a smug expression underneath it all. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

“So, how’d I do?”


End file.
